


Worry

by IrishxCoffee



Category: Rune Factory 4
Genre: Drabble Fic, Dylas worries too much, F/M, Margaret mentioned, Ventuswill mentioned, Volkannon mentioned, badass Frey, inspired from my gameplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 16:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishxCoffee/pseuds/IrishxCoffee
Summary: Dylas tends to worry a bit too much.





	Worry

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I haven't written anything in a long time, but I was inspired to write this by my playthrough. Dylas likes to group up, but he's so low leveled that every time I bring him with me to Rune Prana he's just passed out the whole time. Sippa and Greepa are actually the names of two of my monsters, I have a tendency to name things in a pattern hence their weird names. (Sippa - Silver Wolf, Greepa - Green)

So Dylas had become a bit of worry-wort. 

It’s not like it was his fault! He had tried to keep his distance, tried to shield his heart from the mint haired girl. He’d hoped through his aloof, disparaging comments she’d give up her foolish endeavors. 

He never should have underestimated Frey’s determination.

She’d snuck her way into his routine with such ease that he wound up waiting by the castle for her each morning, fishing pole in hand. Half the time she’d just sit by him in silence by the lake, half asleep and watching the sun rise. Throughout the day she’d peak into Porcoline’s restaurant, giving him fresh sashimi or milk porridge in the colder seasons. He’d stammer and insult her, but she returned each day without fail. 

Their transition from friends to dating had a few hitches, with her confessing repeatedly until he took her seriously. When he finally returned her sentiment, she giggled and took his hand, pulling his stunned form towards the lake. There the two sat side by side, with her head on his shoulder quiet and peaceful. 

Things weren’t always smooth, the two fought and argued numerous times. Dylas hated her spending money on him, even if it was the fishing pole he’d been admiring for months. Frey grew frustrated with his discomfort regarding any form of affection. 

He remembered the day she’d tried to hold his hand in public, and he flinched away before giving her a fierce glare. She blinked for a long second before up and leaving the restaurant. At the time he’d been too embarrassed to go after her, but after his shift ended Dylas headed straight to the castle. He’d learned from Volkannon that Frey had packed her overnight bag before taking off towards the gates. 

He waited that night by the gates for her. Worry was his companion throughout the night that followed, starlight glimmering weakly through the clouds. He blinked once, twice, and fell into an anxious sleep. 

And woke to a poke on his cheek. There stood Frey, looking a little disheveled but no worse for wear. She smiled, bent over and held out a hand. He took a slow blink before realizing how close she was. Immediately he burst up, accidentally knocking her over. As she landed hard he flushed furiously and instinctually took off. It was only after when he gained his bearings that he’d slammed his head against a wall. “Idiot.” 

Dylas was sure she’d break up with him at that point. What girl would stay with such a clumsy idiot who knocked her over and didn’t even help her up? Who’d chased her out of town? 

He’d never been more shocked when she showed up at lunch toting food for the two of them. He protested as she grabbed his hand and walked the two of them to the lake. Eventually he fell silent, fidgeting as she lay out a small checkered blanket and set down the two servings. He couldn’t reign himself in for long, launching into a self-deprecating rant. He understood it was over. 

Frey was quiet, looking at him in that way he both hated and adored; as if she could see every facet of him he tried to hide. She finally grew tired of his tirade, slowly reaching between them to hold his hand softly. Once more, Dylas was shocked into silence. She apologized quietly, recognizing her over-reaction to a boundary she should’ve respected. “I’m not a perfect person,” she murmured looking sheepish, “I’m going to make mistakes. I’m sorry I worried you, I’m going to do my best to do better from here forward.” 

The best part of the whole thing was Frey didn’t expect a response. She let them eat in silence, keeping a respectable distance between them afterward. The smile she let loose when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders made the aches in his back more precious than gold. 

Dating was slow going between the two, with Frey working tirelessly and Dylas’s own social anxiety. She always made time for him, though as she grew busier and busier that time shrunk. He didn’t mind when she fell asleep on his shoulder practically five minutes into the date, Dylas was just happy to have her nearby. 

However, as things escalated, days would pass without the two seeing each other. Frey spent late nights slaving over crops or the forge, whichever she had neglected in the daytime. She was seen leaving on the back of a massive silver wolf, still half asleep before the sun had risen. He let it slide, knowing she was busy even if it hurt. 

That was nothing compared to when they’d lost Ventuswill. During the year it took for Frey to get her back, the girl was like a ghost. He had seen her maybe 5 times that whole year, three out of those five were in the clinic. Her fields grew wild and unchecked, her room was dusty, her bed practically unused. Forte would go out looking for her, usually finding empty potion vials or bloody bandages. The whole village suffered, they had lost Ventuswill and Frey. 

He remembered the manic spark in her eye whenever she was conscious. As if she couldn’t sleep, like she was this mindless drone set to accomplish an impossible task. Around her eyes were stained a dark purple from restless nights, she collected scars and injuries like they were stamps. Dylas didn’t recognize this girl, this hard-faced girl who never smiled. That wasn’t Frey. 

She’d breeze by former friends without a second glance, any attempts at conversation easily dismissed. As the months passed, he began to give up hope. The Frey he knew, the Frey he loved, was never coming back. She was gone and no amount of yelling at the zombie in her place would change that.

He couldn’t believe his eyes the day Ventuswill had returned them both the castle. He never could forget how small and frail she looked, beaten and bruised nestled in Ventuswill’s grasp.

So yeah, Dylas was a bit of a worry-wort. As if he hadn’t earned the right to be a bit concerned about his girlfriend— now wife, after all he’d seen her go through. 

Today was a bit different, he had the day off from the restaurant, though he’d probably go in to help Meg out anyway. Usually, the two of them slept in, enjoying the few hours they had together before duty called. Especially after, well ahem, last night. Anyway, this morning he woke to the creaking of leather and fastening of armor. 

His wife stood decked out in her most protective gear, gathering up various items into her pack. She glanced at him as he slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes. “Morning sleepyhead.” She murmured, softly pressing a kiss to his forehead. He hummed, closing his eyes briefly. “Where are you going?” Dylas asked as he shifted under the blankets. 

“Rune Prana, the dungeon under Leon Karnak. I need some supplies from the monsters there.” She replied while rummaging in the storage chest. Dylas shot up from the bed, “You’re going there?! By yourself?!” 

She looked at him strangely for a second, “Yeah?” 

He immediately started pulling on clothes, furiously buckling and tying up laces. Frey started giggling, “Dylas what are you doing?” 

The man in question paused for a second with his shirt half on, “I’m coming with you, I don’t like you going there alone.” She sighed, shaking her head before wandering over to help. 

While she straightened out the back of his shirt, Frey murmured in his ear, “Y’know I’ve been doing this for months right? I’m fine, I promise.” 

He involuntarily shivered as her lips grazed his ear, sending a shock straight down his spine. Dylas coughed, looking away as he flushed, “You should’ve told me, I would’ve come with you.” 

An impish grin was thrown his way while she grabbed some food from the fridge. “Usually I bring Sippa and Greepa with me, but since you’re a big strong man I’m sure you can protect me.” Frey wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his back. He jolted before smacking at her intertwined hands. 

She at least tried to muffle her laughter as he glared. “Well are we going or not?” He snarked, still flustered. Frey smiled at him fondly before holding the door open. 

The couple found themselves in the dungeon in no time, Frey easily navigating them through its maze-like structure. Dylas struggled keeping up a small bit but kept his discomfort to himself. Eventually they reached the small alcove Frey was looking for. 

He thought the two of them would battle the monsters together before taking out the gate off to the far right. Instead, Frey leapt into battle sending monster after monster back to the Forest of Beginnings. Yet she never attacked the gate, letting it send swarms after swarms of monsters. 

At first Dylas tried to fight a few of them, using lightning magic and his fists. He soon realized how absolutely outclassed he was. Within an hour, Dylas had to sit on the sidelines at least ten times while his wife batted monsters away from him like flies. 

She slashed and spun, dancing through their attacks. Frey came alive during battle, her skin glowed as her hair twirled around her. Sometimes he’d push himself back up, trying to help out even the littlest bit, but more often than not she’d dispatch whatever he was fighting. 

Finally, she tore the gate in two, turning to give him a grin, “Let me gather up all this stuff, and we can go home huh?” He nodded weakly, absolutely exhausted. He was vaguely surprised to see how late it has gotten. The two walked their way home, Dylas leaning on Frey heavily as he could barely keep his eyes open. 

She let him collapse into the bed, before undoing her own buckles and gear. After Frey finished putting her spoils away, she tugged him out of his armor and into his pajamas. She brushed out his tangled hair before curling around him under the covers. “Silly sweetheart.” She murmured, softly running her hands through his hair. 

When Dylas woke the next morning, he had aches in places he hadn’t felt since Frey had freed him. She outright laughed at his groan of awakening. “How do you do it?” He moaned, blearily looking at her stretching. She turned to face him, face thoughtful and eyes soft, “It’s for the people I love.” A pale flush rose across his face before he reached a hand out to muse her hair, “Tch, you should take better care of yourself anyway idiot.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “Says the man who can barely get out of bed.” 

“S-S-Shut Up!” 

So sure, Dylas could be a bit of a worry-wort. He liked to think that with all the pain he’s been through; all the anxiety he’s dealt with; all the danger his wife charges into, that he’s earned the right to be a little extra cautious. 

After all, he’s finally gotten his happy ending. What’s the shame in holding onto it a little tighter than most?


End file.
